“Ever think about pitching again?” Argenti smiled, offering encouragement. “That pitcher, Jeff Abbott, he managed pretty well with only one arm.”
“Jim Abbott. And he was missing a right hand, he kept his glove on his wrist. All I have left is a stub where my left biceps used to be.”
“That’s enough baseball, Padre.” DeBorn motioned for Argenti to return to his chair. “Sergeant, we need you for a new assignment, one that will help America combat our enemies overseas while keeping the homeland safe. Your job will be to help us recruit a new generation of fighting men and women. This is a great honor. You’ll be traveling around the country, visiting high schools—”
“No.”
The secretary of defense’s complexion flushed red. “What did you say?”
“I won’t do it. I can’t. My wife’s dead set against it. I couldn’t do that to her again, no, sir.”
“Where’s your wife now? I’d like to have a word with her.”
“She doesn’t want to talk to you. She doesn’t want to talk with me. She left me. Took my daughter and… well, she’s gone.”
“Then why do you care what—”
“She’s in New York.”
Everyone turned to Leigh Nelson, who squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she hadn’t spoken.
The blood rushed from Patrick’s face. “Doc, what are you saying? Did you speak to Bea?”
“Not yet. Her address was e-mailed to me this morning. I haven’t had a chance to tell you. It’s not a hundred percent, but everything sure fits her description.”
Shep leaned back in the chair, his entire body quivering.
“There’s a phone number. We can call and make sure. Shep? Shep, are you okay?”
The anxiety attack hit him like a tidal wave. Suddenly he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see. White spots obscured his vision. Sweat burst from his pores in cold droplets as he slid onto the floor, his body convulsing.
Dr. Nelson yanked open her door, and shouted, “I need a nurse and an orderly!” She knelt by Shep, feeling for his pulse. Rapid and weak.
“What the hell’s wrong with him? Is he having a heart attack?”
“Anxiety. Shep, honey, lie back and breathe. You’re okay.”
DeBorn glanced at Sheridan Ernstmeyer, who shrugged. “Anxiety? Are you saying he’s having a panic attack? Good God, man up, Sergeant. You’re a United States Marine!”
A nurse rushed in, followed by an intern pushing a wheelchair.
Dr. Nelson helped lift Shep into the chair. “Elevate his feet. Get a cold compress on his neck and give him a Xanax.”
The intern wheeled Shep out of the office.
The white-haired secretary of defense stared down Leigh Nelson, his hawkish look meant to intimidate. “Where’s the wife?”
“Like I said, she’s in New York.”
“The address, Dr. Nelson.”
“Mr. Secretary, this is way beyond reuniting a broken family. Shep’s unstable. His memory is fragmented, his brain is still affected by his injury. We deal with these things all the time. You can’t keep redeploying GIs three and four times without tearing their families apart. Spouses relocate, sometimes because they find someone else, sometimes out of fear. The military no longer detoxes its returning vets properly, they go from combat to civilian life in a week. Some of these guys are walking time bombs, their minds still immersed in war. They can’t enter their homes without doing a search of the premises, and they keep weapons by the bed. I’ve seen way too many cases of returning soldiers stabbing or shooting their loved ones while in the throes of a nightmare. I’m guessing that won’t look too good on the new recruiting poster.”
“I didn’t ask you for a dissertation on warfare, Doctor. Now give me the wife’s address.”
She hesitated.
“With the economy still struggling, it must be nice to have a well-paying government salaried job. Of course, we could probably bring in two residents for what you’re being paid.”
Leigh’s back stiffened. “Is that a threat, Mr. DeBorn?”
“Ms. Ernstmeyer, contact the Pentagon. Have them locate the sergeant’s family.”
“Wait. Just… wait.” Reaching into her lab-coat pocket, Leigh retrieved the e-mail printout, reluctantly handed it to the secretary of defense.
DeBorn squinted as he read aloud. “Beatrice Shepherd. Battery Park, Manhattan.”
“She’s close by,” Sheridan remarked. “Seems too coincidental. Maybe she’s here because he’s here.”
“Find out.”
“Whoa, slow down a minute,” said Leigh, her ire drawn. “Shepherd’s my patient. If anyone’s going to approach his wife, it should be me.”
“You’re too close. Spouses who feel scorned by the military require a deft touch. This wife of his sounds like another bleeding-heart peace activist. Is she?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“Women who place morality above family are the worst kind of hypocrites. Take that Cindy Sheehan. She loses her son, spends the next three years protesting the Armed Forces he risked his life to join, then she ends up deserting her family to pursue a political career. I suspect this Beatrice Shepherd is cut from the same cloth. Ms. Ernstmeyer knows how to handle their kind.”
“Fine. Handle it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other patients to tend to.”
“In a minute. I need you to fit the sergeant for a prosthetic arm.”
“He was fitted three months ago. We’ve been told there’s a four-to-six-month backlog.”
“Colonel?”
“He’ll have one by this afternoon.”
Leigh Nelson felt like she was drowning. “With all due respect, slapping on hardware and forcing Shep to confront his wife won’t even begin to address his psychological problems.”
“Let us deal with his family, Doctor. You arrange for the psychiatric help.”
Leigh balled her fists, her blood pressure soaring. “And where should I find this psychiatrist? Conjure him out of thin air? I’ve got 263 combat veterans in serious need of psychiatric care, a third of them on suicide watch. We’re sharing two clinical psychologists between three VA hospitals and—”
“It’s handled,” interrupted Father Argenti. “By this afternoon, Patrick Shepherd will be speaking with the best shrink taxpayer money can buy.”
Secretary DeBorn’s eyebrows rose. “Any other challenges, Dr. Nelson?”
She sat back in her chair, defeated. “You want to hire your own specialist — fine by me, just keep it quiet. I don’t want the other men in Shep’s ward knowing about this. It’s bad for morale. Shep won’t go for it, either.”
“Duly noted. Colonel, set up private sessions at the psychiatrist’s office.”
“That won’t work. We had a situation last week. I took Shep out of the hospital as a first step to reorient him into civilian life. It didn’t go well. You’re better off doing sessions in the hospital.”
“Then arrange for him to have his own room. Tell him it’s a gift from the Pentagon.” Secretary DeBorn stood, ending the meeting. “I’m due at the UN this afternoon, but I’ve got one more stop to make first. Colonel, you’re in charge. Be sure the psychiatrist you hire knows Shepherd needs to be in Washington for January’s State of the Union Address. That’ll give him four weeks to get our boy in decent mental shape.”
DeBorn headed for the door. Paused. “You like Shepherd, don’t you, Doctor?”
“I care about all my patients.”
“No. I see how you look at him. There’s something there. Maybe a physical attraction?”
“Sir, I never—”
“Of course not. But it wouldn’t hurt you to be there for the sergeant… you know, to ease his mind when his wife officially terminates their relationship.”
Leigh Nelson snapped, “Not that it’s any of your business, but I happen to be happily married with two beautiful children. And you can forget about Shep. Whatever happened between him and Bea, whatever fallout they may have had, he loves his wife and daughter intensely and would say or do just about anything to get them back.”